


Take A Break Or Else (TLC from Zapdos & Co.)

by myexplodingcat



Series: Flying Taser Shenanigans [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pokemon GO
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pokemon taking care of their trainer, Zapdos scares people, gratuitous cuteness, which it thinks is hilarious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 07:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11732478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myexplodingcat/pseuds/myexplodingcat
Summary: Spark loves his job, but the guy doesn't know when to call it quits for the day, and he can't be the Energizer Bunny forever. Fortunately, when you spend all your time taking care of Pokemon, you end up with a few who will take care of you back when you're too tired to move. And possibly one who won't let you move for a while after you can.(@MizuKitsune10, I'm a big fan of the adorable Spark/Zapdos series you're doing and I got dragged away by one of your plot bunnies. This gets dedicated to you. I hope I can throw back some of the enjoyment I got out of your work!)





	Take A Break Or Else (TLC from Zapdos & Co.)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tori10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tori10/gifts).



“We'll get them all back, Professor Willow,” said Spark, just before running out with Candela and Blanche to recover the herd of escaping Tauros.

“Come back to the lab with me and I'll patch you up,” said Spark, to a Scyther with a broken arm.

“That's important, I can certainly help you find some funding,” he said, to the worried nurse of a Pokecenter that would otherwise have to close.

“The new data should be in by Friday,” he told his research analysts.

“The Staryu tanks are getting too full—we need to either get more or find bigger ones,” he told his lab manager.

“This egg's about to hatch, I should carry it with me today rather than leave it home,” he told himself.

“I think I know the right person to help you with that, let me call them for you,” he said.

“Sure, we can talk about that. Are you free over lunch?” he said.

“I can pick that up before I head home,” he said.

“Well, I'm free all weekend,” he said to his Chansey, Cookie, after she expressed her concern that he was getting sick. “I'll rest up, I promise. Don't worry so much!” Her hum of disapproval went ignored as he directed her to another rescue he'd brought in earlier. It wasn't that he didn't know how to delegate—certainly his army of assistants and his pack of Pokemon all had their work cut out for them—but Spark's ballistic enthusiasm for his work didn't know what the word “limit” meant.

Even when it probably should have borrowed a dictionary.

Sure enough, late on Friday evening he unlocked the door of his apartment in the research building, threw his leather jacket down on the couch, kicked off his shoes, unlocked the fridge so Frizz could find his bag of Jolteon food, and threw himself onto the bed without undressing.

Frizz wasn't immediately hungry, having mooched some of Spark's lo mein earlier, but by the time Spark stirred it was late Saturday afternoon and the bag was empty. Frizz heard Spark's sneeze from the next room. A few minutes later, he heard the bathroom sink running, and then Spark turned it off and went back to bed.

At least this time he was wearing pajamas. Spark's discarded clothes lay on the floor of the bathroom, but Frizz was getting worried now. Spark almost never slept this much, so it probably meant he wasn't feeling well. Fortunately, Spark also hadn't put his belt away, and there was one Pokemon who—even more than Frizz—never left his side. It was insufferably smug, but also very intelligent and, hands-down, the best at understanding Spark. It would know what to do.

Frizz waited until Spark was actually asleep again before releasing Zapdos. It was surprising Spark hadn't released the great bird himself, as a quarter of Spark's bedroom was occupied by a nest, as big as the bed, which Spark had personally helped Zapdos build.

Turned out that this was because Zapdos had threatened to lock Spark in his room if he kept overexerting himself, and was now in a pout because Spark had recalled it. Frizz knew full well that the legendary could absolutely release itself if it was determined to, but it was now annoyed and hadn't made the effort. Obviously it knew what was going on, however, because it actually went to the trouble of explaining this to Frizz, although Frizz knew it was mostly for bragging rights. Normally it didn't like to talk to anyone but Spark, who actually understood its words and not just its body language. Frizz had long since given up on trying to figure out what their connection actually was. There was no way Zapdos was going to explain, and he didn't think Spark himself understood it on more than a visceral level.

When it saw that Spark had collapsed on the bed again, it puffed up as if to say, “I told him so,” but almost immediately it also became concerned, nudging Spark with its beak. It pilfered Spark's keys from his pocket and used them to open the apartment door and leave. When it returned, Cookie the Chansey was following behind, humming about a Beedrill whose torn wing she'd been patching (and from whom she'd been dragged away without explanation by static electricity on two legs), but then she saw Spark and became focused on the task at hand.

Spark was still sound asleep, but Cookie stuck a thermometer in his mouth anyway. After a few minutes, she concluded that although he wasn't running a fever, he had been working too hard and not taking care of himself—in a tone that heavily suggested she meant to add “ _again,”_ \--and he needed to _rest already_ and probably take better care of himself than he had been doing.

Frizz wondered if it was possible for Zapdos to look any smugger.

 _He hasn't eaten,_ Frizz said.

 _Well, make sure he gets_ something _nutritious_ , Cookie replied. _Preferably before he gets up and gets into those cheese things he eats again._

Zapdos ruffled its feathers and stomped out of the room with an air of responsibility.

 _Should he have a potion or something?_ Frizz asked as she cleaned the thermometer in the bathroom sink.

 _They don't work on humans,_ Cookie said. _He might have something in a cabinet? I really need to get back to Beedrill._

Zapdos was gone when Frizz stood up on his hind legs to let Cookie out of the apartment, although she probably could have reached the doorknob herself. Frizz did notice that Zapdos had made some sort of paper mess on the coffee table.

Zapdos probably wouldn't be back for a while, so Frizz pulled a ragged blanket out of its nest and put it over Spark. Of course, it was full of static electricity, but by this point Spark didn't even notice that kind of thing. Next, he raided Spark's pantry, the contents of which were unfamiliar because Spark kept his Pokemon's food in the fridge and there was otherwise nothing of interest to a Jolteon in the rest of the kitchen. After ransacking the kitchen cabinets, Frizz tried the one in the bathroom, which had all sorts of plastic jars in it. They looked sort of like potions, but Frizz couldn't recognize the writing. He remembered the shapes of words like “TRAINING,” “LUNCH,” and so on, which could be found in Spark's messy block-printing on his whiteboard schedule on the fridge, but none of those were on the bottles. Nonetheless, he started pulling them out one by one, hoping for some kind of clue, and eventually gave up and dumped them all on the bed next to Spark.

 

Across town, Zapdos was getting ready to order Chinese food.

“Uh... chef? Why is Zapdos in the takeout line?”

“What?”

Two cooks peeked out at a very confused cashier, several customers who were ahead of Zapdos in line and wondering if a pizza might be a better idea, and one legendary bird.

“That's Spark's, right?”

“I don't know anyone else who has a homicidal flying taser as a pet, do you?”

A squawk from the front of the restaurant made several customers jump and the two cooks question how good the bird's hearing was.

“He usually sends an Electabuzz, though! Or comes himself. Spark does not send a legendary force of electricity to get his takeout! Besides, he always calls it in, and--”

Another chirrup had considerably shortened the line in front of Zapdos. Next thing they knew, it was at the cash register, offering the cashier a piece of paper with an air of great importance.

The cooks came over to look at it. Scratched into the torn-out page of a magazine were the rough shapes of letters: “fOD SpK”

They looked at each other.

“What's Spark's usual order?” asked one cook.

“I think it's usually either lo mein or Mongolian beef,” said the other.

“It might be time to package up both and let _this_ customer go on its way,” suggested the cashier gently.

A rustle as the bird pulled something out of its ruff of feathers. Zapdos dropped it on the counter. All three heads turned to look. It was two quarters and a button, wrapped in a recipe for Jolteon food.

“Uh... this one's on the house.”

It was the fastest order the restaurant had ever prepared. Zapdos nodded its thanks before carefully putting its beak through both handles and trotting outside, where it took off.

“I'll agree never to talk about that again if you won't, either.”

“Are you kidding? We're going to get tourists in here for weeks about this...”

 

By the time Spark woke up, Frizz had released all of the other Pokemon he'd had on hand last night. His Electabuzz, Triple-A, and his Gloom, Razz, were cuddled up next to him and fast asleep, while Mochi the Wigglytuff and Nixie the Magnemite had figured out the electric kettle and were putting in a solid effort to make him tea. Frizz was waiting patiently behind a pile of what looked like every bottle in his medicine cabinet. A knock on the door made him rack his brains for who might be outside, what the emergency might be on a Saturday that would require his attention, and absolutely every commitment he'd made and everything that might have gone wrong.

His muscles ached and his joints made various popping noises as he tried to get out of bed, but of course Frizz was faster and answered the door. When Spark realized who'd been knocking, he suddenly became glad he was still sitting down.

Zapdos strutted in and carefully leveled its beak at him, clasped in which were the handles of a plastic bag. The logo looked familiar, and, taking it, Spark woke up enough to realize what it was.

“You brought me Chinese takeout?”

The image of Zapdos wandering around the city with a trendy messenger bag and a latte popped into Spark's already sleep-muddled brain and sent its incongruity functions into overdrive. He blinked, then opened the bag. “...Thank you?”

Suddenly the others were pushing their gifts on him too. A cup of extremely sugary tea was pushed into his hands, and Frizz rattled the medicine bottles again. Spark conceded and rummaged through the pile for some ibuprofen. The tea actually wasn't that bad.

Finally, he stood up and cleared space on his desk to sit down and eat. He started to read a report at the same time, but Frizz spotted him and growled. “All right, I give, I give.” He put it away.

He finished his tea, the lo mein, and half of the Mongolian beef before standing up to throw away the empty carton and store his leftovers in the fridge. He'd just managed this feat when he was suddenly yanked backwards by the neck of the T-shirt he'd worn to bed. Backpedaling all the way into the bedroom, he turned to see Zapdos dragging him across the apartment and into—not bed—but the nest in the corner. It nudged him over the edge and into the mess of half-shredded pillows below. Before Spark caught his breath, Zapdos had hopped in after him and pulled him to rest snugly underneath a wing bigger than Spark himself. The others snuggled in next to them. It was surprisingly comfortable, but Zapdos was making it very clear that Spark was not moving any time soon.

A suspicion crossed Spark's mind. “Have you guys been feeling neglected lately or something?” He recognized Zapdos's intentional poker face. “Come on, talk to me, Zap. Are you still mad I didn't listen to you?”

Zapdos's answer was to ruffle Spark's hair and nuzzle his cheek.

It never could stay mad at Spark for long, but it seemed to want him to shut up and go to sleep.

He did.

 

“Where's Spark?” one of Professor Willow's assistants asked him on Monday afternoon. “He organized this fundraiser, and so far it looks like the Pokemon center is good for at least another year or two, but I don't see Spark anywhere. He put a lot of effort into this event, why didn't he show up?”

“Spark took the day off,” Willow said, pausing in the act of licking a purple snow cone. “I'm not sure where he's gone, but I don't think anyone can begrudge him the break.”

In fact, no one knew where Spark was except his Pokemon.

“Good catch!” he yelled at Frizz, who had just crossed a quarter mile of Instinct nature reserve to leap into the air and catch a squeaky red rubber ball Spark had launched from a tennis ball gun one of his assistant researchers had gifted him. Meanwhile, Cookie was carefully cutting a sandwich in equal thirds to settle an argument between Mochi, a Vulpix named Lighter, and Medli the Pidgeot, all of whom wanted the last of the tuna salad. Razz had fallen asleep next to his bottle of plant food and bag of roasted pumpkin seeds, while Teacup the Pikachu was sampling some fruit brought out of the forest by some of her friendly brethren.

Zapdos ruffled its feathers as Frizz returned. “Okay, your turn,” said Spark, and took a Frisbee handed to him by Triple-A. He paused to gauge the wind and the best angle, and hurled the disc as hard as possible. The air crackled as Zapdos took off. A few seconds later, it caught the toy mid-flight and returned to gently place it on top of Spark's head like a crown. He laughed.


End file.
